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<title>what's your favourite scary movie? by itllbeall-dwight (dupesoclock)</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27314188">what's your favourite scary movie?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dupesoclock/pseuds/itllbeall-dwight'>itllbeall-dwight (dupesoclock)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dead by Daylight (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Divergence, Halloween, M/M, Movie Dates, Post-Canon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 20:56:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,398</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27314188</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dupesoclock/pseuds/itllbeall-dwight</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The phone rang suddenly, and after closing the door to the oven with his leg, the architect moved to grab the receiver from the kitchen island. “Richter residence.”</i>
  <br/>
  <i>“Hello, Felix.” The voice on the other side of the phone was distorted, and foreign to him. A stranger’s voice. </i>
  <br/>
  <i>He paused. “...Hello?”</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>--</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It's Halloween night, and what better time than this to spend an evening to yourself? Or... perhaps not.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Danny "Jed Olsen" Johnson | The Ghost Face/Felix Richter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>50</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>what's your favourite scary movie?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>just somethin a little simple since i've been working on longer fics as of late, plus I wanted to pump something out for the Halloween season! happy Halloween everyone :)</p>
<p>tumblr mirror is <a href="https://itwillbeall-dwight.tumblr.com/post/633534027168710657/whats-your-favourite-scary-movie">here</a>, please be sure to check out my other stuff and leave feedback here if you can. it would mean the world to me &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The quiet sound of the TV humming was only drowned out by the sound of his shoes against the linoleum, moving around the kitchen as he continued to prepare dinner. The house had always seemed emptier since his girlfriend had moved out, and especially now, on Halloween night. It was the weekend, and the child’s bedroom upstairs was not giving out noise, as it had done most weekends like this one. His young daughter was staying with her mom tonight, in the bigger part of the city, where she could have the best experience of the night she could. Felix didn’t mind. There was always next weekend, and the weekend after. So the night was probably occupied with wine, pizza, and staying up to work on another project almost done but due months in advance… not the most glamorous of evenings, but he could think of much worse alternatives.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The phone rang suddenly, and after closing the door to the oven with his leg, the architect moved to grab the receiver from the kitchen island. “Richter residence.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello, Felix.” The voice on the other side of the phone was distorted, and foreign to him. A stranger’s voice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He paused. “...Hello?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Whoever was down the phone chuckled. “How’re you doing?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...Well enough. Who is this?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, that’s not important.” Despite the overlay, the voice had an… odd smoothness to it, like caramel. “What’re you doing right now?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not going to answer that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh really? Because I’d say you have about, hm… 20 minutes before you start a nasty fire. Pizza, was it? Can almost smell it from here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“From where?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A knock against the window by the kitchen sink made him jump where he stood, tossing the phone between his hands in surprise as his eyes shot up to the window, at the familiar olive ones staring back at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The architect practically slammed the phone back down onto the receiver, opening the kitchen window and looking outside, cold air hitting his face as he spoke through gritted teeth. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Danny.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Felix!” He sounded absolutely delighted, slapping the top of his old phone down into itself and shoving both it and the small voice distorted box he held into opposing pockets, as he smiled up at him. “How lovely to see you, darling. How have you been?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is your problem?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alphabetically or in order of relevance, babe? Look, let me in, would you? I’m cold.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You… I thought you were working?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was! I took care of it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He blinked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...Not like that. Christ, have some faith in me, sunshine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re making it very hard to.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Danny chuckled. “I’ll meet you at the door.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It had been over a year now since he’d woken up from the fog, and a few months since he’d found Danny Johnson, of all people, had also escaped the Entity’s clutches, apparently having grown tired of killing for sport and allowing himself to be let go from his playground. The two had messed around in that realm, yes, and had gotten dangerously close to a fairytale ending, but never got around to popping that ever-present question of what they </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> were. Now, out of the fog, they’d taken that chance, and while Felix was still getting used to the journalist’s odd ways of coping with the lack of murder in his schedule, things were going smoothly. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No little tyke today?” He asked this as he walked in, taking off his light jacket and hanging it from the racks by the door, rubbing his arms from the cold October air outside as he turned around again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, no. Not this weekend.” Felix replied, locking the door behind him again, and making sure to do the chain, in case any… real mystery callers came to stalk the house tonight. Not that it was likely, but it was never impossible - after all, he had an expert in that field standing right in front of him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Danny scoffed a little. “Shame. I’ve started to enjoy seeing her more than I do you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Charming. Remember who’s house you let yourself into, Johnson.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Aht, you let me in of your own free will, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Richter</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and I expect you to be hospitable to your most handsome of guests.” And yet, he was already making himself well as home, reaching for two champagne flutes from glass-doored cupboards above his head and for a glass of champagne in the small wine rack below the counter. “Drink?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ja</span>
  </em>
  <span>, please.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was already doing so without much prompt from the other man, holding both glasses gently and setting them down on the island, looking around to the large and comfortable living room behind him. “Say, do you like scary movies, Felix?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He paused, grabbing a towel from the handle of the oven and opening it to check the food. “Can’t say I’m a fan, but they’re… alright.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh really?” He gave a sly grin, leaning his elbows on the kitchen island and fiddling with a knife in the block sitting just by the edge. “What’s your </span>
  <em>
    <span>favourite</span>
  </em>
  <span> scary movie?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Felix stood up fully as he shut the door, glancing back catching Danny staring back. He turned with a slight smile as he walked back over to the island, and matched him, placing his hand on top of his, holding the knives in place. “You say this as if we haven’t lived in one.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But it was fun, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was not… but I did like the ending.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hummed, tilting his head in a mock curiosity, the two of them sharing a quiet laugh together before Danny leaned in and placed a quick, soft kiss on his lips, before pulling away. “And we haven’t even got to the after-credits scene yet. Won't that be a scream, eh?” A quick wiggle of his eyebrows sent Felix into giggles, as the man ran a hand down his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, you’re insufferable.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pushed himself away from the kitchen island, grabbing his champagne as he did shooting the architect a wink as he took a quick drink and went to go scour the shelves in the main room for something to indulge in, very loudly critiquing his small collection of older movies, mostly documentaries for background noise while he was working (“Jesus, I thought you were in your thirties, not </span>
  <em>
    <span>from</span>
  </em>
  <span> the 1930s, you old coot”).</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The pizza was soon prepared with a loud beep of the oven, served on the coffee table in front of the large flatscreen in the centre of the room. Felix swapped his glass from one hand to the other to take the remote from Danny, who had taken to scrolling down various streaming sites to pick a movie to watch, but the journalist moved his arm to keep it out of his reach.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...Danny.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“C’mon. It’s on me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>my house</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And I had it first.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You are an absolute… child.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked over to the architect, sticking his tongue out to match a childish persona, before looking back to the television.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And though Felix knew he should be annoyed, he couldn’t help but chuckle, more than used to this behaviour as he leaned in as rested his head on Danny’s shoulder, listening to the way his heart beat in his chest, and how he breathed in and out. At one point, he doubted the man was human, hunting as an animal would. But here, in his own home, where he should have thought of a man so calm as nothing more than a stranger to him… he was so very human, and he loved every part of him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Especially as an arm was wrapped around his shoulder, and a kiss was planted on his head, as if it was second nature to the man who, from the way his memory served, would have rather died than do something so… cliche.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was an indie horror he ended up picking, a site original, and the two of them took great pleasure in picking it apart, finding more humour in the whole thing as they shared pizza and more than a few drinks. Felix didn’t remember seeing the credits, but he did remember the way a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and how he woke up with a neck cramp and the sun in his eyes, still held in Danny’s arms, where he smiled to himself, and quickly fell back asleep again.</span>
</p>
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